


Fancy Pants

by rachel614 (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Kind of meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rachel614
Summary: “I just want to say, this is all Meena’s fault.” She let him see her internet browser. He stared at it, confusion creasing his brow deeper and deeper as he read. Almost unconsciously, he reached out to scroll down. By the time he finished his mouth hung open and his eyes were wide.————————Sherlock catches Molly reading really bad RP fanfiction about them, written by teenage Americans. Sherlock is confused. Molly is just embarrassed.Rated T for mentions of sex and stuff, but it’s still very clean.





	Fancy Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a combox conversation regarding the difference between American and British English, in my last work “Chocolate Crumbs”.
> 
> Started off as crack and got a bit sappy at the end, I’m afraid.
> 
> Note: I am not poking fun at any particular fic here, except possibly one (it’s pretty infamous, and not in this fandom.) I wrote the fic trashed in here for the purposes of the story. I am an American with a marginal grasp of some of the lingual differences, and a wistful fantasy of actually being British (well, both, really).

“Molly?”

She let out a sharp gasp, frantically slamming her laptop shut. She swiveled to face her office door, pasting a cheerful smile on her face.

“Sherlock! Can I help you with something?” She asked, determined to act as though she weren’t completely flustered and he didn’t notice and she didn’t know he noticed and he didn’t know she knew he noticed—

Molly took a long, slow breath and widened her smile towards the edge of lunacy.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I am in dire need of a competent lab assistant, Molly, although if you require a moment to compose yourself, I suppose I can wait. I would recommend you don’t peruse pornography at work, however, even on your lunch hour.”

Molly choked, spluttered.

“What—I wasn’t—bloody hell, Sherlock, I’m not that desperate.” He raised his eyebrows.

“You were evidently looking at something inappropriate. Pornography was the logical assumption, although I suppose it’s possible you were shopping for lingerie.”

“No—just, _no_.” A silence fell, in which Sherlock looked at her expectantly and Molly wished she’d never met Meena, ever. Finally she sighed. “I suppose you’ll hack into my computer if I don’t show you.”

“An astute deduction, Molly,” he said with an infuriating grin. She stuck her tongue out at him, and opened her computer.

 

“I just want to say, this is all Meena’s fault.” She let him see her internet browser. He stared at it, confusion creasing his brow deeper and deeper as he read. Almost unconsciously, he reached out to scroll down. By the time he finished his mouth hung open and his eyes were wide.

“It’s a bit like watching a train wreck, isn’t it? You can’t quite bring yourself to look away.” Sherlock tore his eyes from the screen to look at her in horror.

“What—What _is_ this?” Despite the sheer embarrassment of the situation, Molly couldn’t help the small grin that rugged at her lips.

“RPF—that is, Real Person Fanfiction. It’s like, when people write stories about their favorite characters in books and telly, except they do it for real people. Celebrities, I mean. Which you are.”

“But _you’re_ not a celebrity,” he said in a small voice.

“Well, not on my own account, no. By contagion with you—apparently I am. There’s stuff about you and John too, you know.”

“Oh.” Sherlock’s face grew blank as he processed this. As Molly watched, she began to have a wicked impulse. She struggled valiantly for some seconds, before caving. Going back a few pages in the results, she clicked on one even more awful than the one he’d just read.

She pushed it towards him, and he looked at her, obviously still in shock.

“Go on,” she encouraged him, snickering. “Read it out loud.” Obediently, he took hold of the laptop. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and waiting for the sound of his melodious voice reading one of the worse fanfics she’d come across.

 

_Sherlock was really excited for his first date with molly. Molly was so pretty, and he wanted to kiss her and never stop. But John told him he needed to do it rite and take her on a awesome date first. So he was going to take her to the opra._

_Moly was excited to. But she was in huge trouble because she had nothing to wear! All she had were awful sweaters. Suddenly their was a knock on the door! Molly was scared but she went up and looked in the peep hole and saw anthea._

_“Anthea!” She said and opened the door. Mycrofts secret girlfriend_ —

 

Sherlock stopped abruptly, spluttering. “Anthea—Anthea is our _cousin_ , Molly!”

“I know that,” she said, giggling madly. “But _they_ don’t. Go on, keep reading. It gets _way_ better.” Sherlock shot her a look saying that he seriously doubted it. She closed her eyes again, smiling serenely.

 

_Mycrofts— “secret girlfriend” — came in with a squeal. She was followed by three agents in total black, each holding bags._

_“Molly! I just knew you didn’t have anything to wear. I told Mycroft and he told me to fix it. You got to have something hot for your date with Sherlock!”_

_Molly tried on the three dresses Antha bought and modeled them in front of her friend and the agents._

_The first was a black dress going_ _down to the floor. It had a long slit up all the way up her leg, and a sleeveless top. It hugged mollys figure which is usuly hidden by her ugly sweaters._

_The second one had a poofy skirt that went just past her butt and showed off all her legs. It was a beautiful icy blue, like Sherlock’s perfect eyes—_

 

“Oh for the love of science—why am I reading this?” Sherlock was actually flushing, Molly was delighted to see.

“Because if you don’t finished it, I won’t help you with your lab work,” Molly said smugly.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused her.

“Obviously,” Molly said in a low voice, mimicking his deep baritone. He scowled, his ears still tinged red.

 

 _The last dress was Molly and Antheas favorite. It was a super sexy red. Th_ e _bodice was tight around her tiny waste before flaring out. The flowy skirt went down just to her knees. The dress had tiny straps and a vee neckline that opened way down the front. There was no back._

 _“This is the one,” Molly said_ _excited. “I just need my hair and makeup done!”_

_“I’ll do it,” said anthaea and she put Molly’s hair up in a pretty bun and put nice make up on her. She was all ready!_

 

 _All_ _this_ _time_ _Sherlock was getting ready_ _too. He decided this was really special, so he changed from his usual suit into a vest and his fancy pants, before walking_ outside Bakerstreet—

 

Sherlock broke off again in outraged confusion. Molly was laughing so hard she slipped off her chair, collapsing into the floor.

“My _what_?”

“Your—your _fancy_   _pants_ ,” she gasped, tears of laughter streaming from her eyes. “It—it’s written by an American. You know, jumpers are sweaters, biscuits are cookies, pants are underwear— and trousers are pants!”

“This—this is ridiculous. I refuse to read anymore of this rubbish.”

“Then you’ll do without my help.”

“Molly.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll let you off the hook— _if_ you read me one more scene of my choosing.” He eyed her suspiciously. She couldn’t blame him, considering what she had in mind…

“Fine.” Grinning victoriously—why had she been so afraid of him discovering this in the first place?—she scrolled down to the end of the fic.

Wisely, he decided to read the whole scene to himself first. Molly bit her lip, watching his face change, suddenly doubting herself. Maybe this was too much. She found herself opening her mouth to tell him he didn’t need to do anything when he finished reading, setting her laptop back down on the desk carefully, before fixing her with an even gaze and the most _awful_ smirk. Too late.

“So you _were_ looking at pornography at work—“

“Sherlock! That hardly counts as porn,” she said indignantly. “I’m not sure they have anything beyond the most basic understanding of anatomy.”

“He put his tool in her lock,” he quoted. “She gasped and cried out—“

Molly buried her face in her hands. Mercifully, he stopped speaking. Unfortunately, not for long.

“Why do you even read this?”

“It’s all Meena’s fault,” she muttered through her fingers.

“You said that before. I’m afraid it’s unclear to me how, since she presumably is not the preteen female American sex-obsessed virgin who wrote this—“

“No, she’s the middle-aged sex-obsessed sorry excuse for a friend who showed it to me. They aren’t all bad, you know. Some of them are quite good.”

She could feel him looking at her. Deducing her.

“They don’t say very nice things about you,” he said softly. She flinched, her hands dropping into her lap.

“No,” she said, ashamed. “Not always. They don’t like the way I dress, or the way I help you out all the time—“

“It’s a bit like watching a train wreck. You can’t quite look away.” Molly bit her lip. They’d suddenly moved past mortification into _vulnerability_. He sighed, and took her hands in his own.

 

“Your jumpers aren’t ugly,” he said. “Not when you wear them. And you don’t need makeup. And you help me because you are good and kind and strong and better than I deserve. And I know I wanted to keep our relationship quiet, but that’s because I didn’t want this—didn’t want people poking their noses into our lives and making you compare yourself to their ideals. Not because I’m ashamed of you.”

“I know it’s stupid. I just—“

“I love _you_ , Molly. Just you.” He gently lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers, one by one, lingering on the third finger of her left hand. “Now. Do you still want me to read that pathetic sex scene, or would you prefer that I, ah, demonstrate?” Molly couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped her.

“I am not shagging you at work, Sherlock. Still not that desperate.”

“But you’ll help me in the lab. In exchange for a promise.”

“Only if you promise to wear your fancy pants.”

“ _Molly!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I do ship Mycroft/Anthea from time to time. When they aren’t cousins. In case you were wondering.


End file.
